An American Anthology, 1787-1900Edmund Clarence Stedman |
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... SLEEP . A DANCING GIRL . ON SIVORI'S VIOLIN CALUMNY SONG . ON A DEAD POET Alfred Billings Street THE SETTLER . THE LOON Christopher Pearse Cranch • 167 INSPIRATION 167 THE FISHER'S BOY • 168 SMOKE 168 MIST 169 Emily Chubbuck Judson ...
... SLEEP . A DANCING GIRL . ON SIVORI'S VIOLIN CALUMNY SONG . ON A DEAD POET Alfred Billings Street THE SETTLER . THE LOON Christopher Pearse Cranch • 167 INSPIRATION 167 THE FISHER'S BOY • 168 SMOKE 168 MIST 169 Emily Chubbuck Judson ...
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... SLEEPING 356 THE WORD 343 · HIC JACET 357 AN OLD MAN'S IDYL . 343 THE LAST GOOD - BY 357 WERE BUT MY SPIRIT LOOSED UPON THE George Arnold AIR 357 FAREWELL TO SUMMER 344 BEER WE LAY US DOWN TO SLEEP . LOUISA MAY ALCOTT 345 LOVE'S ...
... SLEEPING 356 THE WORD 343 · HIC JACET 357 AN OLD MAN'S IDYL . 343 THE LAST GOOD - BY 357 WERE BUT MY SPIRIT LOOSED UPON THE George Arnold AIR 357 FAREWELL TO SUMMER 344 BEER WE LAY US DOWN TO SLEEP . LOUISA MAY ALCOTT 345 LOVE'S ...
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... SLEEP 470 Afternoon . EUGENE HENRY PULLEN Evening · WENDELL PHILLIPS GARRISON ONE SATURDAY 470 ANNIE DOUGLAS ROBINSON ( " Marian Douglas " ) VI THOREAU'S FLUTE MY LADDIE'S HOUNDS . 471 LOUISA MAY ALCOTT MARGUERITE ELIZABETH EASTER ...
... SLEEP 470 Afternoon . EUGENE HENRY PULLEN Evening · WENDELL PHILLIPS GARRISON ONE SATURDAY 470 ANNIE DOUGLAS ROBINSON ( " Marian Douglas " ) VI THOREAU'S FLUTE MY LADDIE'S HOUNDS . 471 LOUISA MAY ALCOTT MARGUERITE ELIZABETH EASTER ...
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... SLEEP 575 FROM THE INVERTED TORCH " KELPIUS'S HYMN . 582 When in the First Great Hour 576 ARTHUR PETERSON Tell me 576 If still they live 576 III Will it be so ? . 576 Two ARGOSIES 583 Samuel Minturn Peck WALLACE BRUCE SASSAFRAS A ...
... SLEEP 575 FROM THE INVERTED TORCH " KELPIUS'S HYMN . 582 When in the First Great Hour 576 ARTHUR PETERSON Tell me 576 If still they live 576 III Will it be so ? . 576 Two ARGOSIES 583 Samuel Minturn Peck WALLACE BRUCE SASSAFRAS A ...
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... SLEEP AND HIS BROTHER DEATH " 613 SMALL AND EARLY . THE YULE LOG 625 613 . THE SPIRIT OF THE MAINE 625 George Edgar Montgomery ENGLAND . Alice Brown 613 • To A CHILD . AT NIGHT 614 CANDLEMAS 626 A DEAD SOLDIER · 614 TRILBY . 626 615 ...
... SLEEP AND HIS BROTHER DEATH " 613 SMALL AND EARLY . THE YULE LOG 625 613 . THE SPIRIT OF THE MAINE 625 George Edgar Montgomery ENGLAND . Alice Brown 613 • To A CHILD . AT NIGHT 614 CANDLEMAS 626 A DEAD SOLDIER · 614 TRILBY . 626 615 ...
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Common terms and phrases
art thou Atlantic Monthly Auf wiedersehen beauty Ben Bolt beneath bird bloom blow blue brave breast breath bright brow cardinal bird child cloud cold dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth evermore eyes face fair fear feet flame flowers glory glow golden grace grass grave gray green hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven hills Joseph Rodman Drake Kingston Bridge kiss Kree land light lips live lonely look Lord lyre mighty moon morning neath never night o'er pass peace Poems poet rapture rose round sail shadows shine shore sigh silent sing skies sleep smile snow soft song Sonnets sorrow soul sound spirit stars summer sweet tears tell tempest thee thine things thou art thought tree verse voice wave weary wild wind wings wood York York City
Popular passages
Page 17 - Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n-rescued land Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, And this be our motto— "In God is our trust.
Page 112 - Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act, — act in the living Present! Heart within, and God o'erhead! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us, Footprints on the sands of time; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again.
Page 150 - Hear the sledges with the bells, Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells.' How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars, that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
Page 16 - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave! And where is that band who so vauntingly swore That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion, A home and a country should leave us no more? Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps
Page 112 - Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act, — act in the living...
Page 46 - WHEN Freedom from her mountain height Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there. She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies, And striped its pure celestial white With streakings of the morning light; Then from his mansion in the sun She called her eagle bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand The symbol of her chosen land.
Page 36 - And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, Bozzaris cheer his band. " Strike — till the last armed foe expires; Strike — for your altars and your fires ; Strike — for the green graves of your sires: GoD, and your native land!
Page 93 - ANNOUNCED by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, And veils the farm-house 'at the garden's end. The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
Page 204 - And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays; Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; Every clod feels a stir of might, An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers...
Page 232 - For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck You've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is...